The Land of Might-Have-Been
by HecateA
Summary: An old man's musing. Oneshot.


**I came up with the idea late last night and wrote bits and pieces during my break at work- so I hope that this makes as much sense as I think it does, because I quite like this story. One of the most interesting characters in Riordan's universe, to me, is Chiron- for so many reasons. The first time I read _The Lost Hero,_ his conversation with Jason about hoping for one last victory during the Titan War and of losing so many heroes and of knowing so many things... it broke my heart, to be honest. I liked it a lot. I hope you like this as well. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the lyrics used or the world used below.**

* * *

 **the land of might have been**

* * *

 _Somewhere there's another land_

 _Different from this world below_

 _Far more mercifully planned_

 _Than the cruel place we know._

 _Innocence and peace are there-_

 _All is good that is desired._

 _Faces there are always fair;_

 _Love grows never old nor tired._

 _..._

* * *

Between the legions of demigods swarming Camp Half-Blood and the incessant problems and quests and adventures and daily logistics of running and maintaining camp, Chiron rarely had a minute to breathe. He would sit down for a second and Mr D would want to play cards, or Cabins One and Three would have gotten in a fight again. Maybe the children of Nike were arguing to see who should be counselor now; Cabin 11 had possibly invaded Hypnos' cabin to use as a headquarters for their prank coordination while the children of Hypnos slept. Maybe the children of Ares had tried to steal the winning capture-the-flag banner and title from Cabin 10 by force. Cabin Nine may be skipping meals to work on a project again- Cabin Six possibly with them…

But when he did (have a second to breathe, that was), he liked to think about them.

He liked to look at camp and, though it had changed so much, he liked to look at Half-Blood Hill and picture them waving goodbye to him after the summer was done. Or look at the climbing wall and remember how gleefully they'd screamed when they'd reached the top for the first time. In the middle of dinner, sometimes he froze and remembered the times when their pranks had caused the ruckus, or their laughs had bounced off the tables and the columns, or that they'd waved at him while in line for the sacrificial flame. They'd moved on from camp, from their childhoods, so long ago, yet everything was present and future and present mixed together (to Chiron, that was).

He liked to think, now that they were gone, about the rest of their lives.

* * *

 **luke**

a tire swing in childhood memories

constant homesickness

getting takeout at 3 am

always in between odd jobs

breathless excitement

constant motion

improvisation

ridiculous tips

bright smiles, easy grins

dog-earing books

counting stars

dark humour

going to festivals downtown

a first-names-basis with the bartender

never making the bed

a studio apartment with a cracked bathtub

taking the subway everywhere

blogging for extra cash

putting videos online

watching long documentaries on conspiracy theories

drinking a bit too much but forgetting well

breakfast for dinner

waking up in vegas

spontaneous trips (please water my plants)

accidental flirting

faithfulness through and through

a girl with colourful stripes in her hair

an unpredictable life

* * *

 **charles**

dust everywhere, very little cleaning

rough fingertips

the hum of machinery

a solid resume

a strong handshake

steady hands

sturdy shoulders

calming voices

sawdust

nuts and bolts

a nice routine

duct tape holding the world together

a measuring tape sliding back in

exposed brick walls

the smell of toothpaste and aftershave

blue papers covered in designs

a treasured motorcycle

blasting music in the car

chicken grease

sitting down for supper every night

bringing the kids to the park (all of them)

going to mom's for lunch every sunday

putting hot sauce on everything

the hum of a power saw

bringing flowers home at random

walking into work with lipstick stains on his cheek

a life well built

* * *

 **leo**

the smear of charcoal

the smell of a campfire

the stickiness of a toasted marshmallow

the click of gears notching into each other

fingers drumming against a table

whistling while he worked

almonds to snack on

the heat of spices

callouses

the banging of a hammer

tweezers picking at wires

superstitious lucky charms

an endless imagination poured onto a sketch pad

inappropriate jokes and corrective slaps across the cheek

a family at last

drinking at bonfires with friends;

the aftermath under the stars

soft work gloves

an engineer's ring

yesterday's t-shirt

pockets full of loose change

finally a girl he would not joke about

a name rolled around his mouth like a prayer

a shy confession

a baby held uncertainly

a life surprisingly full

* * *

 **percy**

the stench of chlorine

the smell of salt in the air

all nighters

hard work

eye contact

a likeable smile

keeping things simple and under the radar

calling home on weekends

not wearing shoes

trying very hard

a treasured diploma

loose ties and shirts buttoned wrong

the smell of hay

callouses from the reins

working with animals

teaching children

helping others

never learning how to lie

a small wedding with a short ceremony and lots of booze

twinkling eyes

sleeping in on the weekends

constantly making runs to the grocery store

night sweats

bad puns

a human shield

struggling to build the crib but doing it right and doing it well

keeping too many pictures on his phone

a life well earned

* * *

 **annabeth**

lemongrass

graduating with honours

the smell of old books

the scratch of a pencil against graph paper

chapstick

the click of high heels on an office floor

a membership for yoga

falling asleep over a good book

a single shot of tequila every friday night

binge-watching crime shows on netflix

playing board game

minimalist décor

buying a white dress at target two weeks before the wedding

sight-seeing

picture-taking

lunch between two meetings

a smile worth the work

bustling airports full of business people

hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

well worn jeans

a city skyline in the morning

the power to see right through a child's lies

historically accurate bedtime stories

tough love in a loving home

a life that's permanent

* * *

 **piper**

spotting shooting stars

paper lanterns, fairy lights and blanket forts

experimental hairstyles

a post card collection

playing darts at the bar

a scarf collection that gets out of hand

dancing like the ancestors

the smell of cinnamon

a pet ferret

movie nights

big cardigans and colourful nail polish

volunteering

the cutthroat world of politics

smiling for the press and being best dressed

unapologetic activism and loud blogging

a part to play in the media

a pinterest board for food

redecorating for fun

singing with the radio

changing into pajamas after work

being the navigator on road trips

bringing brownies to the office

gender-neutral baby clothes

going to every single play and recital and game

love notes in school lunches

a life to finally be comfortable in

* * *

 **jason**

the smell of mint

mediating fights and passing messages

the smell of ozone

flashes of light and clouds rolling in

working out a lot

trying exotic cuisine

cold showers as if water is still rationed

rolling the sleeves of a button-up shirt

the sound of a ball bouncing

dinosaur nuggets and french fries and pudding cups and a late childhood

driving miles and miles and pulling over for small diners and cheap tourist traps

always looking for his glasses

being tired of leading

cropped hair

a steady and mellow style

reading the newspaper and doing the crosswords

learning to cook

sticking to a routine

finding the best Christmas presents months in advance

holding the door for people

always touching the back of his neck

scribbling on a chalkboard and grading tests at midnight

good taste in rings

kissing the bride before the minister finishes his words

wanting to be so much better

staying up all night when the baby has a fever

crying when she learns the word dad

a life to finally fit into.

* * *

 **will**

a collection of well-loved vcr tapes, rewinded and rewatched

piles of textbooks

starting conversations with strangers

adopting stray cats

leaving all the lights on

giving ridiculous names at starbucks

trying ever crane machine in sight and buying bubble gum for a quarter

working weird hours

soap bubbles while scrubbing up

lounging around shirtless

paying bills at the last minute

the smell of rubbing alcohol

giving lollipops to children in the emergency room

ordering mri and cat scans

giving bad news to good people

coming home and crawling into bed without any explanation

nerf guns have no age limit

a caffeine addiction

ordering chocolate milk at a restaurant

a wedding at sunrise and a reception until dark

paperwork and paperwork

lists of baby names

a life with enough happiness to lighten up the bad

* * *

 **nico**

odd jobs and random quests

being summoned to the underworld without context

rubber bands snapping

burning toast and cussing

learning to fit in at family gatherings

hidden tattoos

wanderlust

scary stories

a favourite mug

the little spoon

forgetting meals

no sleep pattern whatsoever

never shaving

pitching scripts to hollywood

paycheck to paycheck

a garbage can filled with protein bar wrappers and red bull cans

swearing in other tongues

picking up foreign languages

giving out big candy bars on halloween

a fascination with antiques

long sleeves in the summer

the backlight of a computer

a wedding at twilight and a party until midnight

the smell of mama's tomato sauce

staying home with the twins

helping with math homework

a life deserved

* * *

Yes. Chiron did quite like thinking about them in these ways. Now that they were gone from camp and this earth for good, he liked to think about the rest of their lives (as it all should have been, that was. Not about how it had all really ended).

As he watched camp with a worried eye, rebuilt years after the streak of wars, he liked to imagine that the land was a lot cleaner of the blood it had seen. That his proteges weren't in as much danger as they were, though that old was hope and centuries-old. He liked to think of adventurous twenties and panicky college years and of beautiful lives and teary weddings and happy births. He liked to think of what he could not have, all the things that had been lost to this world, and lost to some very young, very deserving children. He had built worlds and worlds in his head- worlds where Kronos had not whispered in anybody's ear, worlds where Rachel Elizabeth Date had never uttered a single prophecy, worlds where Mother Earth was nurturing and every variation of the world except for this. Sometimes the weddings were big, sometimes they were small (Chiron was always invited). Sometimes there were children, sometimes there were demigods having adventures until their hair turned gray and they were put in nursing homes. Chiron had created a real and completely new universe in his head.

But if it took only his mind, if it took his prose and his imagination to make them breathe and live again, then Chiron had no opposition to hosting this world.

* * *

 _We shall never find that lovely_

 _Land of might-have-been_

 _I can never be your king nor_

 _You can be my queen._

 _Days may pass and years may pass_

 _And seas may lie between-_

 _We shall never find that lovely land of might-have-been._

-The Land of Might-have-been, Novello


End file.
